


Distance

by FitzsimmonsForever



Series: Fanwork Friday [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, a lot of feelings happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 16:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11559318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FitzsimmonsForever/pseuds/FitzsimmonsForever
Summary: A study on Fitzsimmons and how distance has defined them.





	Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Fanwork Friday. Sorry if this is sad, I've been in a foul mood lately. I really hope I portrayed what I was trying to get across with this fic.... it's hard for me to express in words I think.

Space: an area unoccupied, the distance between two people. 

 

No matter how close they were, it was never close enough. 

When they had first formed friendship, they had been nearly inseparable, the only distance between them the metal work table in the little lab at the Academy. In that space, he had gotten to know her, had learned of the many things that made Jemma Simmons who she is, who she is going to be. 

He had memorized the things that made her laugh, had cataloged each line on her forehead that formed when she thought, had watched her as he grew to know what she loved. 

As they became closer, the distance between them shrank. They would touch each other more, Simmons putting a hand gently on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he was upset. And he would brush the hair out of her face, hold her hand when she was nervous. 

But there was always the words he didn’t say, the simple sentence creating a strange sort of remoteness between them. But he was comfortable with it, okay with things frozen in the happy medium they had created for themselves. 

But that fabricated peace had been broken by one man, by the crashing water around their little pod, by the press of a single button, by the sounds of her screaming out his name before everything went black. 

And then she left. 

The huge expanse was like a cavern, an emptiness in his chest that could never be filled. And he had tried, had tried so hard to keep even a figment of her close to him. He had even imagined her there when she was not in a sad and desperate attempt. But, no matter how many times the hallucination had placed her hand on his shoulder, he knew that he was no closer to her than before. 

It was the most distant he thought they could ever feel. 

He couldn’t have possibly known Maveth would happen, couldn’t possibly have predicted the distance that would be created by AIDA. 

He supposed he was at fault for that, creating the machine with his own two hands that would enslave most of the team and changed the fundamental aspects of their history, until he was a monster that he himself didn’t recognize. But the blame was his, no matter how many times Simmons denied it. 

He had shot her, had hurt her, had told her he didn’t even _love_ her anymore. In that moment, he knew he had created a separation that extended so far that he had lost sight of who they were, of the future that they could have had together. 

She should leave him again, just like after Ward. He was dangerous, was spiraling out of control like a plane dropping out of the sky. 

But even as he tried to pull away from her, she tried to push closer to him, her hands pressing against his skin, holding him up when he couldn’t stay standing.

Even as he tried to put space between them, she was filling it, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her waist, the words she whispered into his ear as he could feel the cracks spreading in his mind. 

And yet, even then as they held each other, the space was too large between them, his mind, his body, his soul screaming to be ever closer to her. 


End file.
